I joined Twitter last week. I joined it so I could follow Peter Serafinowicz, with no intent of ever using it, and then while I was out drinking with workfolk the discussion moved to Twitter, and I started using it.

(Also, have arrived home to discover that Miss Audrey Apple has already posted a similar (though much better worded) confession. Quite freaky.)

I am not game enough to link it, because it is all Real Name-ish, and Real Photo-ish, and for the first time ever I am doing something on the internet without my anonymity to back me up. Can you believe it!

But, this post is supposed to be small, because all I'm saying is that I joined it, and am therefore officially NOT the last person on the bandwagon, for once in my life.

Or maybe I am.

Either way, you are permitted to punch me in the face now.

Bleurgh. What a weekend!

Grade 7 Poetry:

Ode to a Little Green Shitbox

With your crumply front plate
And your unroadworthy state
I was ripped off when I bought you

But your smells and your squeals
And your crooked front wheels
Meant that slowly, I came to adore you

Then I bought a new car
Which was better, by far
For economics, I had to sell you

I put you up on Carsales
Excluding some minor details
Within a day it was time to farewell you

Now I see and hear you around
(I know your unique clicking sound)
And your new ginger owner dotes on you

And while I am cashed up and glad
My heart feels a bit sad
For my Little Green Shitbox; I loved you

Sniff.

And briefly:

• I turned 26 on Wednesday. Beardie and I both had the day off work and went shopping, followed by a big mother of a steak. I am all about the steak lately. 26 seems to be going ok. I am in my late twenties. Apparently I am lover of steak in my late twenties. All is well.

• I organised a night of bowling for my team on Friday night, which was super fun, though every time I stay out for drinks with work people I regret it. I mostly regret all the shit that I spout which is really not making that great an impression when you have to go back to work and be in charge of these people. BUT THEN, I also went out last night for an engagement party. Plus, we had an enormous dinner beforehand (including a rocky road sundae, which we completely inhaled in seconds, much to the disgust of the other patrons and amazement of the waitress). So basically I am feeling seedy and porky today and as a result am going to detox this week.

• There's some whispers on the job front that could see me putting in an application for the department that brutally rejected me the last time. The only difference between now and then is that next month I am going on an awesome training course which will actually give me some of the skills that they were asking for the last time I applied. They are only rumours at this stage, but I still get a little excited skippety-skip in my tummy.

What's the best thing to do when you are seedy and porky? Clean the house from top to bottom for an inspection this week. Fricking awesome. Hope you've had a good weekend, lovely people.

I have come to a realisation. Nobody can read my face. My face is unreadable. I often find myself in scenarios like the following:

[Scene: a management meeting, Director present, discussing boring crap about boring work and the like]

Manager: Well what I would like to propose is [insert proposal here]
Me: [listening, however thinking dreamily about having leftover Mum's Stew for lunch]
Manager: Oh, well just look at RAT's face, she doesn't like it!

[All turn to look at me]

Me: Oh, um, not at all?

[Conversation continues]

Manager: So I guess the main idea is [insert main idea here]
Me: [listening, however contemplating how many pieces of Hubba Bubba are required to blow a bubble the size of my torso]
Manager: Look at RAT's face, she obviously has something to say about that!

And so on. The most common one is receiving comments that I look as though I don't like something, when in fact I do actually like it, or don't really care about it much, but am definitely not opposed to it. Maybe I just have a disagreeable face and look like a miserable git all of the time? Very possible.

Maybe this is to do with turning 26 next week? And my rapidly ageing face is handing out mixed messages to everyone?

Also very possible.

Well I guess it is better than everyone and their mother being able to work out exactly what I'm thinking just by looking at me. Yes? Hmm.

For people who enjoy the full use of their arms, shoulders and upper back, might I suggest that you do not go canoeing for seven hours? Just a tip.

Alas, I am only able to give myself this tip in retrospect.

OW.

Cue mental imagery of Beardie and I lazily paddling along a calm, clear lake, with the sun shining and birds twittering. Then replace it with me screeching "go RIGHT, go RIGHT!!!" and us drifting head-first into an overhanging tree. And the lake was brown, but most likely from tannin and not actually from poo (as I kept claiming), and there were definitely birds about but they were vastly outnumbered by the mosquitoes. By about twenty billion to one.

Our party also ended up lost at one point, and frantically trying to escape from a rapidly dwindling inlet before we ended up completely bogged.

However! I did not fall out, or capsize the boat, or even get wet a little bit. In fact I did more damage to myself at lunch by dropping tuna all over my pants, and therefore smelling delightful for the rest of the day.

It was actually pretty good fun, with good company and lovely scenery and all of that. And the pain isn't too bad this morning, though Beardie tells me that it might be that kind of deeply burrowed muscular pain that will come out the day after the day after.

Other ridiculous things I have signed myself up for:

• My piano teacher, who is as quiet as a mouse (I am a very quiet person, and she makes me seem like a big, loudmouthed git), asked me if I wanted to participate in an upcoming concert that they were holding. Given that the rest of the participants were aged 10 and under, I declined, not wanting to be the only Giant Person on stage. She said that they were considering having a concert just for their adult students and would I like to participate in that one instead? I said that if she gives me plenty of notice, I would do it. That's right. Performing on a stage. In front of strangers. This is only just an idea at this stage and I already need a change of underwear.
  
  
• Beardie suggested that we partake in the Bridge to Brisbane Fun Run this year, and because I want one of those t-shirts that says "I completed Bridge to Brisbane", I said yes. Then I realised what I had just done, and said "ah, shit." It coincides pretty well with the running program that we're doing and I figure we can always just walk/hobble/crawl along if we need to. And can I just point out that the idea of me EVER partaking in something like this is just freaking crazy; I never thought I would. It's got to be a good thing, I guess.
  
  
• We've accepted an invite to go a popular American-style restaurant which is famous for house-sized portions of ribs, wings, pork belly and other meals primarily based around gigantic slabs of meat. As somebody who has always been a small eater, and a lover of all things vegetable, I am already quite frightened by this concept. They don't have a menu online so I can't even make a plan beforehand and can foresee an evening of clutching my stomach, my pants exploding, groaning with a trail of hickory-smoked, porky BBQ sauce running down my chin.
  

Today I have a whole range of crappy girly movies to watch (as Beardie is working, I am sparing him the pain best time of his life) and I will probably try and finish reading The English Patient. For those indulging in public holiday awesomeness today, I hope you have a shiny, tip top day.